


Richard's Boys

by mangocianamarch



Series: Le Livre de L'un par La Dame Marciana [11]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit RPF
Genre: Feels!, M/M, RICHAIDEAN IF YOU SQUINT REALLY HARD, actually that's a lie but you'll see, fussy!Richard that turned into doting!Richard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-23
Updated: 2013-07-23
Packaged: 2017-12-21 02:07:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/894542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mangocianamarch/pseuds/mangocianamarch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Richard can’t help but feel like it’s all his fault, and it really kind of is, but he can’t quite tell what his fault actually is. Has he cared too much? Did he not care enough? Whatever it is, it’s eating away at him, and it’s turning him neurotic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Richard's Boys

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bluepeony](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluepeony/gifts), [thorinshielding](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thorinshielding/gifts), [ocaptainrogers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ocaptainrogers/gifts).



> So basically, not a day goes by that the Aidean Gang, proudly composed of [Katy](http://kilivanily.tumblr.com/), [myself](http://mangocianamarch.tumblr.com/), [Sarah](http://beornsbees.tumblr.com/) and [Wing](http://thorinshielding.tumblr.com/), isn't sharing ideas with and between each other, usually because they just happen. Most of the time, they translate to published asks on Tumblr that are followed by pages and pages and pages of replies, with still more ideas and squeeing and fainting and dying and sometimes even art-ing.
> 
> But sometimes there are ideas that deserve more than just a reply to an ask, or a reply to a post. Sometimes there are ideas that deserve - nay, _need_ to be ficced. This is one of those ideas.
> 
> Also: fussy!Richard is our mascot. Fussy!Richard in the sky with flowers.

From the moment they’d all gotten together, they kind of became “his boys.” It’s not something that they were able to help or do anything about it, it just sort of happened. And Richard was all too happy to assume the role of doting babysitter to the two of them from the beginning. Why wouldn’t he be? Even to this day, they just exude so much life and joy together that Richard can’t help but be happy when he’s with them. It sounds cheesy and cliché, but Dean and Aidan are to Richard like the first lights of sun in the morning, bringing light and illuminating just how beautiful the world can really be.

He takes care of them, and they let him. They look up to him. They call him Uncle on- _and_ off-set, and it’s adorable, but it means so much more to Richard than anybody thinks. They make him feel needed. Wanted. Cared about. Like he matters, like he has a purpose. It must be what parenthood feels like, he supposes. So he goes out of his way to make them as comfortable and happy as he can, and short of tucking them both in at night after a bedtime story, basically mothers them. But that’s okay, the fact that Richard is so mother-hen, because _he_ wants to be, and _they_ want him to be, and it makes him feel included in their little world, something no one else has the distinction of being.

He cares about them. They’re “his boys.” And he’s pretty sure that after everything is over and done with, when the cast and crew have finally gone their separate ways, he’d _still_ be there for the two of them if and when they needed him. He takes care of them. He loves them, his boys, in the only way he knows how. He’d give them the world if they asked him of it.

So when they show up on his doorstep with lunch on a Sunday, he opens the door and greets them with a huge smile. They’ve brought Chinese, because Dean _really_ likes Chinese, because the little box the rice meals and noodles meals come in amuse him to no end. They set themselves up in Richard’s living room, and soon they’re talking and laughing with mouths full about this and that, and Dean and Aidan are sweet and adorable together, and it just makes Richard smile. He can’t help but wish they’ll stay together for a long time, if not forever. Admittedly, part of him thinks that as long as they’re together, they’ll always need him, so yes, the motive is a little selfish, but it’s not often he finds this kind of fulfilment anyway.

But when Dean tells Richard that they’ve decided to come out officially, Richard feels the smile on his face melt faster than cheese singles in the microwave. He doesn’t speak for what feels like an eternity, but that’s because he doesn’t know what to say. There’s way too many things running through his head, he can’t pick the right one to pluck out and tell them.

_“I’m really happy for you both, you’re really brave to come out to the world with this.”_

No, because that would make it look like he thinks the nature of the relationship is a much bigger deal than it is. Which it isn’t.

_“Okay, sure, whatever you want, I’m here for you boys.”_

Not that either, because then it’ll look like he doesn’t care. Which he does.

_“Wait, no, don’t!”_

Too negative.

_“Are you sure about this?”_

Yeah, sounds about right. Just the right amount of care, and just the right amount of hesitation.

So that’s what Richard says, and he’s careful to keep his tone even, his face just a teensy bit inquisitive. Still, Dean and Aidan exchange a look, so Richard thinks they expected this kind of reaction from him.

“We love each other, Rich,” Dean answers for them both, as Aidan silently picks at whatever’s left of his noodles with his chopsticks, “We have, for a long time. And it’s been really hard, you know. We just want to go out and enjoy eating out together and watching a movie together and taking walks in the park together and being affectionate without having to look over our shoulders to see if anyone’s gossiping about us.”

“We’ve always been okay with it,” Richard replies with a tiny shrug.

“We know,” Dean answers, “I mean, we’re all friends and everything, and it’s always felt like they knew it was going to happen anyway. But I mean...they’re not the rest of the world, and you know how people tend to jump on things like these. The rumors start, and then the nastiness and all that. If it hasn’t already.”

Something passes over Aidan’s face, and Richard sees his left eye twitch for a moment. Oh.

“Aidan’s family not too happy?” Richard asks gently.

Aidan shakes his great curly head, still more fascinated with what’s left in his cardboard box than in looking at whoever is speaking. “It’s not that they’re too conservative or hung up on tradition or whatever,” Aidan points out, “They just...I dunno, I guess they’ve always just had this vision or hope of me getting married and having kids and raising a family or something.”

“Which could still be possible, right?” Dean interjects, “So I don’t know what their deal is.”

“Yeah, it’s possible,” Aidan says, “But you know, they want it the nor—the _traditional_ way.”

“I’m sorry about your family, Aid, I truly am,” Richard offers at last, because something is jumping in Dean’s temple, giving Richard the impression that this is something they’ve talked about before but don’t really want to keep talking about anymore, “But is telling the world really the best solution to all this?”

“We’re just looking for support,” Dean says, giving Richard a strange look, “If we can’t get it at home, we’ll get it elsewhere. Besides, it’s better for them to know than to let them keep speculating. At least the ‘issue’ dies out.”

It’s a terribly optimistic view of the future, but Richard refrains from telling Dean so by sipping on his _nai cha_. Still, Dean sighs.

“You don’t think it’s a good idea,” Dean breathes. Aidan looks up at Richard, all big brown eyes and kicked-puppy pout. Richard knows that look well; Aidan pulls this kind of face when he’s got a favour to ask of Richard, or if he really needs help. But right now, he looks almost... _hurt_.

“Listen,” Richard starts carefully, adjusting so that he’s facing them on the couch, “You’re wonderful, both of you. As individuals and together. I daresay you work better together than on your own. I’ve been so happy to watch you grow into this, to nurture this relationship and turn it into what it is today over the past ten months. But the rest of the world is, unfortunately – and I’m sure you already know this – is a lot less...tolerant.”

“Tolerant?!” Dean echoes, indignant, “Is that what you’ve been _doing_? You’ve been _tolerating_ us?!”

“Shit,” Richard hisses, “That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what _did_ you mean, Rich?” Dean asks, eyes narrowing. Oh, he’s _really_ angry. Richard’s done it now.

“I just meant that the world hasn’t seen what _we_ have,” he answers, “What _I_ have. They didn’t see this blossom from a friendship to real, actual love. All they’ll see is that two very good-looking young men are hot for each other, and that’s it. The media doesn’t care enough to look past that into what your relationship is really about. And I think it’s going to just hurt you more than help you. Not everyone is going to be as accepting of this.”

“Of _us_ , you mean,” Dean corrects him, tone lower now.

Richard shakes his head, breathing deeply. “I love you both,” he says honestly, “You know that. There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you. I don’t throw that word around lightly either. You mean more to me than you think you do. But I just...I have a bad feeling about this, is all. I’m not trying to hurt you, or insult you. If anything, I’m trying to protect you.”

“From what?” Aidan says finally.

Richard shrugs. “From people who are miserable and refuse to understand,” he answers, “From a fuckload of ugly aimed at you by a big bad world of stupid.”

Aidan chuckles a little bit. But Dean doesn’t seem quite so satisfied.

“You’ve got a really dark view of the world out there, Rich,” Dean observes.

_And you’ve got a far too idealistic one_ , Richard thinks, but doesn’t say.

“I just don’t want you to get hurt,” he replies instead.

Dean nods slowly, and then turns sad eyes at Richard. “Too fucking late,” he says with a grimace that was probably meant as a smile.

Richard feels his chest tighten as Dean stands, taking his empty boxes and cups and heads for the door, where he stops and turns.

“You coming, Aidan?” he asks.

Aidan looks like he’s realized he’s caught between two oncoming trains. He looks from Dean to Richard and back again, sputtering the entire time.

“I get it,” Dean says softly, voice low, “You choose him. I thought you would one day.”

“What?” Aidan asks, panicking as Dean walks out the door, “Dean, wait! Can we talk about this?”

He chases after him without another word or glance back at Richard, who doubles over, elbows on his knees and his face in his hands. He sighs heavily, seriously contemplating just going back to bed. The sun’s just gone away, after all.

\--- + --- + --- + --- + --- + --- + --- + ---

Richard doesn’t hear from either of them all week. Things are kept strictly professional on set, and Richard can’t even pretend that it cuts him deep. People are noticing too, which makes it even worse. Graham and Adam and Jed and James all come to him and ask him if he’s okay, he seems bothered, is he tired, has he been sleeping?

No, he’s not okay, yes he’s very bothered, yes it’s making him rather tired, and no he hasn’t been sleeping as much.

He doesn’t say any of it, of course. He’s Thorin fucking Oakenshield. He can’t look weak. So he just waves them off, gives them what he usually hopes is a reassuring smile, tells them he’s good, thanks for their concern. And he almost convinces himself that he’s okay too, at least until he sees them all at lunch and realizes Dean and Aidan are eating far away from each other along their table, barely exchanging more than necessary words and a few furtive looks when each one thinks the other isn’t looking.

Richard can’t help but feel like it’s all his fault, and it really kind of is, but he can’t quite tell what his fault actually is. Has he cared too much? Did he not care enough? Whatever it is, it’s eating away at him, and it’s turning him neurotic. He _has_ to fix things, he _has_ to. But they haven’t _let_ him, they haven’t come to him again to try and talk things out. Hell, they’re not even coming to _each other_ , apparently.

The way Dean just _escapes_ on Saturday after filming wraps for the night tells Richard he’s waited way too long for _them_ to come to _him._

He shows up on Sunday, an entire week later, at Dean’s place with donuts and coffee for breakfast. When Dean doesn’t answer the doorbell, Richard walks around to the back. He’s not sure if he’s hoping that Dean is already awake but ignoring him, or really just fast asleep.

Fortunately, he finds him sitting on the grass out in the back porch, camera pointed at the rather extraordinary sky they’re having this morning. Richard walks right into the camera’s line of sight, so when Dean puts his camera down, he sees Richard.

Dean’s movements slow almost to a stop, and he just sits there and stares at Richard for a while, arms suspended in mid-air despite holding what is an arguably heavy SLR.

“Nice morning we’re having, eh?” Richard starts, going for casual.

“Depends on what you mean by ‘nice,’” Dean answers after a while, still slightly hostile. He nods at the food and drinks in Richard’s hand. “What’s that?”

“Peace offering,” Richard replies, holding them up, “in the guise of a rather unhealthy breakfast.”

Dean just sits there and looks at him, saying nothing for seconds on end.

Well, he tried.

“Right,” Richard breathes, “I’ll just...yeah.”

He starts to head off, extremely disappointed but hoping that Aidan’s already awake, because whenever he can’t get through Dean, he goes through Aidan, and it usually works. But he hears the hinges of the fence door creaking, and he stops in his tracks, turning.

Dean jerks his head as a silent invitation, and Richard sighs in relief. He turns on the spot and heads back in, allowing Dean to lead him inside through the kitchen, where Richard sets down the donuts and coffee on the bar.

“Spoken to Aidan recently?” Richard starts quietly as Dean locks the back door.

“No,” Dean replies, “You?”

Richard shakes his head. “He doesn’t seem very happy, does he?”

“I don’t imagine he would be,” Dean answers, “Not after last week.”

“Yeah,” Richard says softly, “Listen, I’m really, _really_ sorry about that. I didn’t mean for it to go the way it did.”

“None of us did.” Dean opens the box to look inside. “Is that glazed?”

“Yes. There’s pineapple too, I know you like that one.”

“Thanks. Coffee’s decaf?”

“Of course.”

Dean takes the coffee instead of a donut, sipping from it and looking at Richard over the top of the cup. Richard offers him a small smile, but says nothing. He’s got the feeling Dean’s just mulling over what he wants to say, that he’s been hoping something like this would happen just as much as Richard has been. He gives Dean time, lets him drink and eat in silence, tries not to look at him too much to not appear too eager.

“If I were to be completely honest,” Dean says at last, “There’s really nothing you should be sorry about.”

Richard’s brows nearly meet in the middle, he’s so confused. But still, he keeps his lips shut, lets Dean keep talking, because he needs to let it out.

“We’d spoken to Aidan’s parents about a week before,” Dean continues, “Like you said, they weren’t too happy to find out about us. Their perfect little prince, falling in love with a _man_ and cancelling any dreams they may have had for him. I had been on edge since that conversation. Aidan was so angry, he spent the rest of the night not talking. You know how he is. And it hurt, you know. It hurt to know that his own family wouldn’t accept us, and what we have. It hurt me, it hurt him, and we honestly didn’t know what to do.

“It got to a point where I was convinced he would leave me, just so he could feel better about the whole thing. I told him too, I told him I didn’t want him to leave me, and he said he wouldn’t. ‘We need each other,’ he said, and I believed him. I still do. That’s what you do, right, when you’re in love? You believe them. You trust them. But everywhere I looked, it felt like we were getting attacked. I thought all it needed was a push, just one, and then Aidan would be gone, and I’d be back to where I was before I came here.”

Richard shudders a little. He remembers. He doesn’t want to, but he remembers.

Dean goes on. “He’s always been really affectionate towards you. He looks up to you, like a hero or a mentor. It’s beautiful. But it made me feel really insecure. I can’t live up to you. You’re...you’re fantastic. He sees so much in you, and maybe if I wasn’t so fucking miserable the entire time, I’d have been okay. But it just scared me. Friday night, we had a row about it. Saturday morning, I proposed the idea of coming out together, as _us_. I was hoping that maybe that validation of our relationship would keep it together. Like, because we were ‘official,’ it would keep him from dumping me. It was a stupid idea.”

“It wasn’t.”

“It was, Rich. It really was. You were right, you know, about the outside world not being as accepting or kind to us. I just didn’t want to see it. I was trying to convince myself that it would work. But to hear it from you, who’s always been honest with us and who’s always cared about us, to hear you say that it wouldn’t just scared me even more. And I wanted to hate you for it, but I couldn’t.”

“That’s why you said he chose me over you.”

“I didn’t even know how to feel about any of it anymore after that. I couldn’t even believe _I’d_ said it, imagine Aidan’s face. I thought maybe he’d stay here with you until we got things sorted, although I hoped he wouldn’t.”

The donuts and the coffee have all been forgotten, but it hardly matters. Dean looks like he’s trying hard not to cry.

“I miss him,” he says softly, “I miss him so fucking bad, but I just...”

The way Dean is talking would make anybody think they’ve been broken up for a year instead of just a week. They’re not even _really_ broken up, Richard thinks, they just haven’t spoken properly in a few days.

“I’m sorry, Richard,” Dean offers, and in that moment it feels like a weight has come off of _both_ of them, although there’s another one still to take off, “About last week. About _everything_. I’ve been an idiot.”

“No, of course not,” Richard says, and he’s crossed the space in less than a step and is now holding Dean by the shoulders, “You _haven’t_ been an idiot. You just wanted to protect what you love. There’s nothing wrong with that. And hey, if it still matters, you know that whether or not you decide to come out with your relationship, I’m going to be behind you 500 percent, and _then_ some. You know that, right? You’re my boys, and I love you both, and I’m gonna take care of you, like I always have.”

Dean closes the gap and grabs Richard in a tight hug that Richard is all too happy to return. It feels more than just a little nice to have this over and done with.

“I meant what I said, you know,” Dean says, muffled in Richard’s shirt, “You’re fantastic. You really are.”

“Right back at you, kiddo,” Richard answers, smiling into Dean’s hair, ruffling it a little and planting an affectionate kiss in it, before pulling away just slightly, “Now grab those donuts and let’s go wake our pet otter.”

\--- + --- + --- + --- + --- + --- + --- + ---

 It happens about a week and a half later. And the way it happens is the way Richard deems it best. Quick and straight to the point.

_Whatever it is you think about me and Aidan at this point_ , Dean tweets, _It’s true._

There’s a flood of replies and messages after that, Richard’s told, not all of which believe Dean, thinking it’s a joke or that he’s just lying to get a response.

So Richard grabs Dean’s phone and snaps a picture of the two in a sweet kiss, Aidan clinging to Dean’s shirt and Dean’s hand in Aidan’s hair, and Dean uploads it to Twitter, captioning it with an almost aggressive _Deal with it._

And that’s it. No more mention of it anywhere else, not in interviews, not online, nowhere. It’s enough.

They really _do_ seem happier, Richard thinks, as he watches Dean and Aidan throwing M &Ms at each other where they’re picnicking in the park. At least now that they’re out with it, they don’t have to care if people are staring at them, if people are talking about them. They can do whatever they want now, no matter who approves. (Aidan’s family _still_ doesn’t.)

Richard supposes this is the way it should have been from the start. They’re far too young to be encumbered by the stigmas of society anyway. How dare anybody try to dictate how his boys want to live their lives?

His boys. Yes, yes they are his boys. They both told him as much last night at Aidan’s.

“Your boys,” Aidan had told him, sealing it with a light kiss.

“Yours, Rich,” Dean had panted as he had ridden Aidan to oblivion, Richard watching from the corner of Aidan’s bed, a hand stroking himself in as quick a pace as Dean’s movements.

They’d never really said it before. Everyone else has. Richard has. But never them. Not until last night.

Somehow it just started to actually sound _true_.

They _are_ his boys. And he loves them.  And there’s nothing anyone can do about it.

Not that Richard would let them, anyway.

 

 

**_~ END. ~_ **

 

**Author's Note:**

> WOOPS I NOT-ACCIDENTALLY RICHAIDEAN'D. SORRY NOT SORRY, BBYS.


End file.
